Leaders in Control by W.J. May

Author:W.J. May
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, young adult fantasy, paranormal new adult romance, superpowers, paranormal romance, Teen reads, action adventure romance, mystery, sequel, new adult college romance, new adult, romance, superhero fantasy ebooks, supernatural free kindle books, superhero, supernatural, young adult, coming of age, sagas, Chronicles of Kerrigan, dark fantasy, fantasy anthology, fantasy witches, prequel, hybrid, hybrid paranormal, hybrid fantasy, w.j. may, tattoos, werewolf series, young adult paranormal, juvenille, humorous, tattooist, dark paranormal, horror romance, fantasy new adult, horror, paranormal suspense, The Chronicles of Kerrigan, series, boarding school, paranormal, England, Tudor, New Adult & College Romance, academy, magic, anthlogy, box set, vampires, paranormal shifter romance, shifter romance, shifters, shifter, witches, vampires and witches, paranormal fantasy, New Adult & College Romance Paranormal, new adult and college, chronicles of kerrigan, fairytale, fairy tale, sequel series
Publisher: Dark Shadow Publishing
Published: 2023-01-31T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Gabriel woke the next morning before his alarm, lying in the darkness and staring blankly at the ceiling. He and Natasha had kept the party going a while longer after they’d come home, but while she’d drifted away into peaceful oblivion, he’d been unable to fall asleep.

His lips still tasted of wine. Those well-meaning toasts were still ringing in his ears.

What a disaster...

He’d been thinking as much in the Oratory, but between the applause and the jostling crowd, it had been impossible to get away. It had struck him even harder at dinner, but when he’d tried sneaking into the alley to clear his head, Devon was already there—having the secret mental breakdown he so badly wanted to have himself. The one his insufferable friends wouldn’t allow.

Why are they cheering? Why are they pretending this is a good idea?

A quiet sigh wilted his shoulders.

Why did Carter ask me?

For the hundredth time in less than a day, he pulled out his phone and checked through his messages. He’d been texting Angel nonstop since the offer, but she was in the Kalahari Desert, happily rounding up warlords with a bottle of Aquafina and a go-cart. He’d gotten nothing in reply.

Feeling uncharacteristically nihilistic, he scrolled through what he’d already sent.

Crisis in England—call me back.

Put down the gun. Pick up your phone.

Radio silence is subjective, Angela. I need to talk with you.

Let’s not sink to petty threats.

I’ll kill your husband, your dog. Even your daughter.

CALL ME.

He’d ended on a particularly low note.

I’ve turned state’s evidence against you. No need to ever come back.

With another defeated sigh, he dropped his head upon the pillow and cast a sideways glance at his sleeping wife. She was radiant, no other word to describe it. Even after a night of fettucine and heavy drinking. Even in the middle of a barren English winter, she’d managed to curl up in a single ray of light. He reached over gently and curled his finger around a lock of hair, sorely tempted to wake her. They wouldn’t have to talk, they could just continue what they’d started the night before.

She’d see right through that.

While his first call in moments of crisis was still to his sister, it was only because he didn’t want to place any of those burdens on his lovely bride. She’d been through enough without him adding additional baggage. He and Angel were comfortable in the shadows. Even after so many years, it was still a novelty when they hung up their sabers and wandered back into the light.

Maybe we’re too comfortable. Maybe we linger there too long.

He rose from the bed in a lithe movement, picking his way across the clothes strewn over the floor. It was brighter in the hallway—too bright. Those shots of whiskey from the day before were wreaking havoc on his eyes. He winced involuntarily upon entering the living room, then pushed aside the curtains—squinting through the window at the house across the street.

For the last few years, he and Devon had made a habit of jogging together around the neighborhood.

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